


the curse of love

by alexanderlightweight



Series: Words of October 2019 [38]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dark Magic, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Immortal Husbands, Immortal Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Immortality, M/M, Possessive Magic, Rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 22:54:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21260966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexanderlightweight/pseuds/alexanderlightweight
Summary: The laws of nature call to him, a rigid handbook draped in moss and written in blood.It wears away at Magnus.  The years sinking into his bones and eating away at his muscles.  Slowly he drops to the ground, exhaustion in every molecule.It won’t always be like this.  Even now, he won’t stay like this for long.And the price, this price.  It is but a small one to pay.





	the curse of love

**Author's Note:**

> fluff bingo: crafting
> 
> because the process of gaining immortality is an intricate web to weave

The laws of nature call to him, a rigid handbook draped in moss and written in blood.

It wears away at Magnus. The years sinking into his bones and eating away at his muscles. Slowly he drops to the ground, exhaustion in every molecule.

It won’t always be like this. Even now, he won’t stay like this for long.

And the price, _ this _ price. It is but a small one to pay. 

It takes long, aching steps for him to make it to his bed. Pain echoes around him, long and lingering moans of the dead ring in his ears and the weary follow in his wake. 

It is worth it though, for in their sheets Alexander lies sleeping.

He’s washed anew in a hue of rose-golden dawn, dew catches and lingers on his lashes, silk pools about his form and Magnus drinks the sight of him in. A man desperate and yearning for a taste of ambrosia.

This should be a mirage, an illusion that once dispersed leaves Magnus devastated, but it’s not.

His hand moves to Alexander’s face. Beneath his touch is warm, smooth skin. No wrinkles crease his regal brow, the crown of responsibility that once wore him down is now weightless. A twined and tined wreath of power that rests upon his brow as light as spider silk and just as strong. It’s beautiful and Magnus knows that it was spun and created by the most deadly of all immortal Fae. 

It is one more testament to this new chapter of their life.

His fingers move from the crown to Alexander’s neck, to trace the rune there, it is just as stark against his skin as it was when they first met. 

Magnus wonders at that. If they remain then something else was taken and there are no clues for him to glean. Still asleep, Alexander remains an ethereal being. One caught by love and nourished by adoration and his cheeks have gained the pale pink of health.

Alexander refused to leave him and Magnus wept it into fate. 

One thousand tears shed. One hundred dimensions traveled. A decade spent loving each other and all it took in the end was a single slip of the tongue, a fae blessed kiss and becoming so lost that he’d never be found, at least not by death.

As always, Magnus’ love burns too brightly and too fierce for a mortal to truly bear it. From the moment it tied their lives together, it wrapped around Alexander so protectively that it destroyed any possibly threat.

For Magnus, love was his magic and magic was his love and Alexander bore the brunt of that affection. 

When he pressed fervent kisses of adoration against Alec’s lips, his magic intertwined them, sparked lovingly and ardently against _his lover, his husband, his heart._

If Alec is the temple at which Magnus worships, Magnus’ magic is the devotion that makes him a holy and immortal deity.

As much as Magnus is in pain, as much as he aches from the missing piece of his magic that he gave to Alexander what seems both so short and so long a time ago, it’s a pain that he relishes.

Countless ages he lost Alexander to. Time they will never regain and never quite remember but oh, how it was worth it. 

It seems like only a moment ago that he left his husband to wander the woods in search of a gift. A piece of him had remained with his nephilim, his magic piercing deep and burrowing into Alexander’s heart where it could hide and fester and grow until when it was finally released, it would never let Alexander go.

Immortality is a curse tis said, not a blessing. 

So Magnus cursed his beloved. Cursed him with magic and love and sentenced him to life. 

To immortality and all the pains it held. To an eternity of Magnus and love and magic.

He cannot wait to see Alexander awaken truly, now reborn anew and Magnus yearns for what is sure to be a look of surprised delight when Alec's eyes clear and he recognizes Magnus. 

For now though, he waits.

Under his palm, beneath Alec's skin, Magnus’ own magic dances in husband's veins, and snaps at Magnus as though he is an enemy. 

In a way, he supposes he is.

Cradled so long in Alexander’s heart, his magic has grown. Cherished and loved with a blinding ardor it feels endless. It was the only thing Alexander had been allowed. No memory, no words, just Magnus’ magic pressed against his breast and thrumming in time with his heartbeat. 

Finally free, it wraps around Alexander. Drapes him in blue fire and purple mist and sparks aggressively in his defense. 

Magnus has always been a Prince of Hell. In Edom, however briefly, he had been a king.

Edom will remember that. Hell will remember it. It is as immortal as his very being. An untold truth that his magic declares, claiming the monarchy for itself, for Magnus, for Alexander... for their future.

Magnus will never know how much time passed in the mist. How long he and Alexander _ -his whole heart and a piece of his soul- _ were separated for. Instead he begs without speaking, diamond tears of exhausted supplication rolling down his cheeks as he reaches out with his hand and his magic.

What once was a part of him writhes, creates a barrier he can’t penetrate before lashing out and coiling back around Alexander.

It takes time but now, he has all the time in the world.

Magnus’ knees creak as though he were a mortal man caught by his years. The air tastes like ash upon his tongue and his tears are endless. 

Finally, his magic relents. 

He welcomes it back to himself with a desperation that he’s unprepared for. Now that their wills have matched and the fight is at an end, it returns to him joyously. 

It doesn’t come alone.

What he’d given has grown.

It no longer fits into the tiny wound he’d carved out. The edges of his soul had calcified around that aching hole and to have it filled is a jagged knife of reentry. There is no leniency. Just a rush of endorphins and he feels echoes of longing and loneliness. His magic is vicious. It strikes deep and fierce. Reunited as they are, it will never let itself be stripped from him again.

It brings Alexander with it.

For a moment, Magnus wonders if this is what a parabatai bond feels like. Wondrous and forbidden but his magic fervently denies it.

This is so much _ more than any nephilim made bond. _

His magic threads Alexander into him like matching dye to newly spun wool. No matter how much time passes, no matter how harshly the sun and life beat down on him. They are uniquely and permanently bound.

The coloring may change. It may fade or wear away but it will never be torn completely away. That’s impossible now.

Magnus and his magic adore it.

There’s something intensely protective about his magic, now that he’s completely whole with both magic and Alexander returned to him.

Magnus is used to control. Yes, he enjoys putting on something of a show. Flaunting his powers and delighting in his magic.

This is different.

His magic lingers ephemerally on Alexander's skin. It sparks delightedly against his lips and hovers with each breath he exhales before settling in a kiss of power when he inhales. 

It’s a declaration. 

An almost possessive intent that Magnus understands.

This is their truth now. This is their future.

Magnus was not allowed in the trials that Alexander went through. In order to spend the rest of their lives together, one tithe of the cost to be paid had been separation. After all, how could they be expected to live forever by each other’s side if such a small degree of separation truly kept them apart.

Alexander had promised him. Had sworn to him that he’d find his way back to him. That they’d find their way back to each other after this, their one last test. There is no going back, now no one and nothing, not even the finality of death, can truly part them.

Magnus had hated to agree but hope had made them both greedy for more. In an act of heartbreaking finality, Magnus had cut away a piece of himself in hopes that through all this pain, it would help in the end.

He could never have expected this outcome but he delights in it now.

Alec comes awake in the smallest and gentlest of movements. His eyelashes flutter almost weakly and Magnus dims the sun until only the glow of his magic lights the room.

Alexander comes alive again. 

Each puff of air that escapes his lips is like a tiny joyful trumpet announcing that the love of his life, Magnus’ husband, has been returned to him wholly.

Under his palm Alexander is warm and strong and his heartbeat is sound.

Stubble scratches against his palm and bites little aching kisses into his skin when Magnus rubs his fingers along Alec’s jawline.

The hazel eyes that Magnus cherishes open slowly. There is nothing but adoration and recognition in Alec’s eyes.

The first word to leave his lips is a hoarse and fervent, near delirious whisper of his name and Magnus rewards it with kisses pressed devoutly to a plush mouth. 

“You’re back, Alexander. You’re home, _ forever.” _

**Author's Note:**

> this is a different style than usual but I wanted to write something that was both fluid and jagged. kind of like a stream with pokey rocks at the bottom.
> 
> i hope you liked it!!


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